Lahat ng Kabanata ng Only Her Touch: The CEO’s Forbidden Doctor: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Alice’s POV: The ExaminationThe silence in the consultation room was so heavy that you could hear a pin drop.David Newcombe’s eyes were locked onto mine, tracking every micro-expression like he was trying to dissect me right there on the spot. As a urologist, I’ve seen every possible configuration of the human anatomy; I should have been immune to a naked gaze. But the way this man filled that Herman Miller chair gave me a visceral sense of edge. He didn’t look like a patient; he looked like a predator deciding whether to play with his food or just tear the doctor apart."Mr. Newcombe, I’ve reviewed your intake forms," I said, adjusting my glasses and keeping my voice as flat as a dial tone. "ED, complicated by chronic insomnia. Usually, when we’ve ruled out physical trauma, we’re looking at psychogenic blocking. In layman’s terms: your brain has stopped sending the right signals to your body."David let out a sharp, derisive snort. He leaned back, his posture radiating pure arrogan

Alice’s POV: The ConfrontationJust as I felt like I was drowning in panic, the sharp, staccato click of stilettos echoed down the hallway.“Well, if it isn’t our dear little Golden Girl? I thought the family cut you off from the trust fund years ago. Look at you — I’ve seen better-dressed people panhandling on the promenade.”I’d know that voice anywhere. I turned to see Lily sashaying toward me in a fire-red Chanel Haute Couture gown, clutching a limited-edition crocodile Birkin. She was perched on four-inch Louboutin spikes, looking like she’d stepped off a runway and onto a battlefield. Two suits followed her, their bulk blocking the hallway like a human wall.She was the McCutchen family’s presumed heiress. I was the social pariah she and her mother had framed and exiled, several years ago. I hadn’t seen her in a while, and I didn’t relish this chance encounter.“Lily, get out of this medical center. Now!” I snarled, my voice snapping like a whip in the dead air. “You’re not welco

Alice’s POV: The Lion’s DenBel-Air at 10:00 PM was silent, but it wasn't peaceful. It was the kind of heavy, suffocating quiet that felt almost lethal.My old Toyota rattled rhythmically as I cleared the towering iron gates of the Newcombe estate. The private drive was flanked by cypresses, their unnatural perfection casting long, predatory shadows that seemed to claw at the pavement under my lights.As a doctor, I’m used to the sterile hum of a lab and the scent of bleach in an OR. But the pressure here was different. It was the oxygen deprivation of extreme wealth.The butler, was already waiting at the main entrance. He gave a slight, perfectly measured bow, his eyes flickering briefly over my slightly wrinkled white coat. His manner was impeccable."Good evening, Dr. Alice. I am Charley, Mr. Newcombe’s butler. Sir is expecting you in the study. This way, please."We walked through a gallery lined with European oil paintings before he pushed open a pair of heavy, hand-carved oak do

Alice’s POV: System OverrideLily finally retreated under the weight of David’s silent, commanding stare. The moment the door clicked shut, the stagnant air in the study finally seemed to circulate again.I didn't look at him. I kept my head down, organizing the tangle of sensor leads and tucking them back into the compartments of my leather medical bag. I peeled off my latex gloves — the sharp snap echoing in the quiet room like a gunshot."Your hands are steady."David’s voice came from the exam table. He hadn’t moved; he was still half-reclining, one hand tucked behind his head, the other resting carelessly on his hip. The firelight flickered across his sharp jawline, trading his usual boardroom severity for a dangerous kind of relaxed intensity."As a surgeon, basic hand-eye coordination is part of the job description." I zipped the bag and turned, locking eyes with him."No, I’m not talking about your technique." He sat up slowly, moving with the predatory grace of a leopard waki

Alice’s POV: Quid Pro QuoMonday morning at the clinic. On the surface, it’s the most prestigious address in Beverly Hills; in reality, it’s an open-air landfill of filtered egos and rotting morals.I sat in my office, scanning the file for my next consult.Thomas Miller. Fifty-four. A power agent at CAA and a permanent fixture on the Hollywood ‘Gold List.’ His chart was flagged with a vague ‘unspecified dysfunction,’ but after several years in this practice, I knew what that meant: he’d already cycled through every illicit performance enhancer and fringe therapy on the black market, and now he was looking for a ‘medical miracle.’When I walked into the exam room, Miller was standing with his back to me, the Santa Monica coastline framed perfectly in the floor-to-ceiling windows."Dr. Alice." He turned, but instead of sitting on the exam table like a normal patient, he sprawled into my desk chair. He was fiddling with an unlit Cuban cigar, rolling it under his nose to catch the scent.